To: Luke Love, Noah
by Eddifer
Summary: Luke and Noah meet in high school. What begins as two acquaintances writing back and forth, quickly changes into an unforgettable journey through first love.
1. Chapter 1

9/25/09

Dear, Noah

So…yeah; I really just wanted to apologize again. I know letters are kind of old-school, but you don't seem like the talkative type. Or the social type, for that matter. But, lucky for me that your locker ended up being right next to mine, right? Yesterday was probably really awkward for you. I mean, your first day in Oakdale, and a clumsy oaf spilled coffee all over your clothes. And then, he stood there like an idiot, watching you pointlessly dab at your clothes, before finally dashing for some napkins. And then, he practically sat on your lap as he tried to clean your shirt.

Again; really awkward…and embarrassing, for that matter. I made a terrible first impression, and probably ruined your first day in Oakdale, or at least made it worse. I know I already apologized, but I'm really, really sorry; truly. I'm sort of the self-proclaimed worst worker in the world. Why Java hired me…I'm still trying to figure out.

Anyways, I sort of kept trying to apologize today at school, but it seemed like you were avoiding me. I'm not accusing you or anything, just…that's how it seemed. Not that it's bad if you _are_ avoiding me, because I honestly wouldn't blame you. I'd avoid me if I were you. Not that I'm encouraging you to keep avoiding me, just…um, never mind. I should just shut up now, before I end up writing you a novel. Again, I'm really, really sorry. And…welcome to Oakdale.

From,

Luke Snyder

****

9/26/09

Dear, Luke Don't worry about it. Really. The shirt's already been taken care of.

From,

Noah Mayer

****

9/27/09

Dear Noah,

Really? That's great! I've been freaking out about it for the past three days. My friend Casey kept telling me that I was gonna give myself a heart attack over it. You're the third person I've spilled coffee on this month. I'm sure my boss is anxious to fire me already. I'm not sure how many more chances I'm getting.

Wait, you know Casey, right? He's in our History class. He's the guy who sits behind me, always throwing papers at the teacher and talking about a mile an hour. He probably comes across as really stupid, but I promise he really does have a brain. He just prefers not to use it.

Um, anyways…I'm really happy you wrote back. I didn't think you would. No offense, but I was sort of thinking you'd tell me to fuck off or something like that. Not that you seem like that kind of a guy, but I mean; I ruined a very nice shirt of yours. Not that I'm insinuating that other shirts you have aren't as nice. I'm sure your closet is filled with nice clothes! Not that I'm saying I plan on paying attention…just. Never mind. I don't know much about fashion anyway. Not that I'm saying that my opinion about clothes means nothing. It's just that my closet is loaded with striped shirts of every color. Which I guess irritates some people.

Anyway, um…I forget what I was talking about, which is usually a sign that I've been over-talking (or in this case overwriting…bah da boom!). So, I guess I'll stop here. Um, again. Welcome to Oakdale, Noah.

From,

Luke Snyder

****

9/27/09

Dear Luke,

You _do_ talk a lot. But that's alright. And…I like your striped shirts. They're _'nice.'_

From,

Noah Mayer


	2. Chapter 2

9/25/09

Dear Noah,

Really? You like them? You're honestly one of the first people to ever say that to me. I mean, usually I get these looks of pure annoyance and people roll their eyes and stuff. There's this one shirt especially; it's bright orange with light blue stripes, and it actually hurts my eyes too, but I wear it just to piss everyone off. My mom keeps trying to throw it out, but I'm like, "No, mom! I need it!" She just rolls her eyes.

But anyway, um…thank you. I like your shirts, too; especially the one today, the light blue one. It really brought out your eyes. Crap! Not that, you know, I was paying attention. I just happened to notice is all. In fact, I always notice that kind of stuff. I would have noticed if you were anybody, and not just you. Not that there's anything wrong with you being you. I mean, I don't really know you, but I'm sure you're a really nice person! In fact, I'm sure you're even nicer than your shirts.

Um…I don't know what I'm saying anymore. That happens when I'm nervous; I just lose track of what I'm saying and I start babbling like crazy. Funny that it even happens on paper, huh?

Wait…not that I'm saying you make me nervous. You definitely _don't_ make me nervous, not even a bit. I mean, why would I feel any sort of anxiety near you? Just because your eyes are really blue and you're sort of good looking doesn't mean anything! I mean…not that _I _think you're good looking. I mean, you are, but not exactly to me. Well, you are, but not in an _'I'm attracted to you' _sort of way. That'd be weird…and stuff. Just…all the girls keep talking about how cute you are. And a whole bunch of them are planning on asking you out. I mean, I'm not worried or anything. I just thought I'd let you know.

Wait…not that I have any particular reason to be worried. I mean…I really need to shut up. I must be freaking you out so much with my writing diarrhea. I'm sorry; I'll let you go now.

From,

Luke Snyder

* * *

9/25/09

Dear Luke,

You make me laugh…but in a good way. And you don't freak me out. In fact, I think you're _nice._ And so are your eyes. Have a _nice_ day.

From,

Noah

* * *

9/28/09

Dear Noah,

I don't know why, but I feel like I'm almost forcing you to write back. And I feel really bad about it, especially if you find it annoying. Add to that, I write you freaking books and pretty much force you to read them. I just thought I'd say that you don't have to keep writing back if you don't want to. I mean it. You can just say it right to my face; "_This letter stuff if stupid_." I won't get mad or anything if you're honest with me. I actually really appreciate honesty. We can stop and you can go back to your peaceful life.

But…I mean, if you don't find it stupid, then that's great, and we can keep this going. Not that you _have_ to. It's _your _choice. Freedom of choice, right? Yeah…okay.

Anyway, I decided to control my diarrhea and make this my shortest letter so far. Such a shocker, isn't it? Usually I just write and write until it seems like I'm on some kind of drugs, but I guess that's the hidden writer in me exploding out. I don't know why, but it's really easy to talk to you. At least on paper it is. In real life, you're somewhat intimidating. Not in an _"I'm gonna beat the shizzle out of you"_ sort of way, but in an _"I don't really want to talk to you"_ sort of way. It gives you a mysterious edge. I think that's part of the reason why so many girls like you right now.

Wait…I think I just accidentally insulted you. Crap! I don't find you rude or anything, but sometimes you look like you'd really rather not speak to anyone. Some people say you've probably never smiled in your life. One weirdo even said that you're secretly a robot, sent here to destroy all of us. Of course I don't believe any of them. I bet you smile every day, and it's a great smile. Show me sometime, would you?

Um, I should probably stop here. I got carried away again. Is there a diagnosis for this, because I said I was gonna control myself, and I exploded as usual (wait…that's probably not a very good image…forget I said anything!)

Anyway…bye, Noah. I hope you have a nice week. Oh! And thank you. You know, for saying I have nice eyes. I still think yours are nicer.

From,

Luke

* * *

9/28/09

Dear Luke,

I don't think this is annoying. Actually, it sort of…makes my day. Sometimes you stop making sense, but that's what makes you funny. And yeah, believe it or not, I do know how to smile...and laugh…and talk. And sometimes, I even change _my _own batteries. Hmm…

Oh, I noticed that you wore that orange shirt today…your mom was right to try to throw it away. _Not that I'm saying it's ugly or anything…_I hope you have a nice week too, Luke.

From,

Noah


	3. Chapter 3

9/29/09

Dear Noah,

Really? You have no idea how happy I am to hear that! Not the thing about my shirt being ugly (no matter how true that is!), but about these things making your day. I don't know why, but knowing that makes me really, really happy. I thought maybe you were only writing back because you were trying to be polite. I mean, if that was the case, I wouldn't really hold it against you. Okay, wait, yeah I would, but I wouldn't hate you because of it. You'd have to do a lot more to make me hate you, like…push me off a cliff or something crazy like that.

Wait! Not that I'm saying that I want you to push me off a cliff, because I'm pretty sure that could really hurt a person…if not kill. And I don't think you're cruel enough to do that. You don't come across as that type at all. In fact, you seem more like the secretly sensitive type…which isn't a bad thing at all. Some people really go for that type…I know I do, at least.

Wait…not that I'm saying you're my type or anything; so far from that, actually…

Oh God…I'm sorry, I'm doing it again. Making no sense…I'm sorry, I'll try to stop now. I mean, I know you said that you didn't mind that about me, but I should still at least try to control myself sometimes, right? Okay, so from now on, my letters will be short, and to the point! Like a ninja! Well, okay, maybe not a ninja. That doesn't really make sense. In fact, it doesn't make any sense at all.

Crap! I'm doing it again! Okay, I'm stopping here, before I get out of control again. So, um…have a nice day, Noah.

Oh, and, um…thank you. For, you know…showing me your smile. I was right; it is a great one.

From,

Luke

* * *

9/30/09

Dear Luke,

If I ever _did_ push you off a cliff, you'd probably find a way to fly back up…you just seem like that type of person. And trust me; I would never lay a finger on you anyway, unless you wanted me to.

And for the record...you have a pretty nice smile yourself. Don't forget that.

From,

Noah

* * *

10/1/09

Dear Noah,

Okay, um…alright I'm just gonna be honest and say it. Sometimes…on paper, and in real life, you say these things that are so…well, they make me wonder why you don't have a girlfriend yet. It's not a bad thing, just…it's so weird, because there are plenty of girls who'd love to date you, believe me. I mean, even with your weird obsession with old movies (which most don't even know about…), I'm sure some girls would be willing to fist fight for you…

Oh wait…not that the old movies obsession is a bad thing…just really weird. No offense! Honestly, no offense. But…I just don't get it at all; what the big deal is. Just because a movie is black and white, doesn't make it more spectacular than a movie in color. Like The Incredible Hulk. That was in color, and I think it was a _great_ movie. And I managed to stay awake. For some reason, I see a movie in black and white, and I'm knocked out in the next half hour. I can't stay awake long enough to even concentrate on what's going on, and then I end up waking up when the movie's over. I think it's the whole _lack of colors _thing…

Um, anyways…there was a reason I sort of wrote this letter. Some of my friends have seen the two of us talking, and they think we're really good friends, and…they want your number. Of course, I didn't give it to any of them, if only because I don't have it either. But even if I did, I wouldn't give it away without your permission. That'd be so wrong. But none of them will stop bugging me, so I thought it would only be fair if I asked you about it first. No pressure. I honestly wouldn't blame you if you decided not to give anyone your number. I mean, one person knows your number, and they give it to someone else, and that person gives it to someone else, and soon, you're getting calls from some creepy stalker who claims to be your friend…not that that's happened to me; I just heard that it's a very common thing.

So yeah…I think I did pretty well this time, in terms of diarrhea control. I barely went off topic, and if I did, it was only a couple times! But, I should probably stop here; before I remember some crazy story or something like that…

I hope you have a nice day, Noah.

From,

Luke

* * *

10/1/09

Dear Luke,

403-516-4290

-Just for you, okay? Don't let _anyone else_ have it…and call me tonight. I want to ask you something really important. Don't forget, okay?

From,

Noah


	4. Chapter 4

10/1/09

Dear Noah,

This'll just be a short one, I promise. This might seem totally out of the blue (what else is new with me…am I right, or am I right!??), but I just wanted to thank you. I'm not sure exactly for what though. Knowing me, I'll probably figure it out as I write. I guess…one reason, and probably the biggest reason, is for sticking around. Do you remember when we first met? Well, you probably do (I'm sure it's still pretty hard to forget!). I never really told you this, among all the random things that I did tell you, but when that coffee fell on you, I was terrified. And not just because I ruined your shirt, AND made it look like you'd peed yourself, (I think it's a little funny when you look back, right? Right? OR…maybe it's too soon to laugh) but sort of—I guess—because you looked so nice (I'm starting to think I use that word a lot). I kept waiting for you to yell at me, like other people have in the past, but you never did. It's a little late, but thanks so much for that, and for forgiving me so easily. Every time those other people come in, they glare at me.

Which I think is really stupid, by the way. They took it so freaking personal! It's not like I _meant_ to spill coffee on them. Do they really think that when I saw them, I thought, _"Oh, well, you're rude and I don't like you, so I'll just pour this hot, smoking beverage right on your lap and totally ruin your day, and your perceptive of the service here…"_ Give me a break! They really need to get over themselves. And besides; it's not my fault I'm so terrible at multitasking.

Um, anyway…I got off topic again, but I really just wanted to say thanks. So…thanks. And…I'll call you later. I promise I won't give your number to anyone else.

From,

Luke

10/1/09

Dear Luke,

You don't have to thank me for anything. Not even for forgiving you. Because believe it or not, once you get past the clumsiness and verbal diarrhea, you're pretty decent (and with or without them, you're still one of the most interesting people I've ever met). Those guys don't know that they're missing out on getting to know a really great, and spastic, guy. But that's their loss, Luke, so just forget them.

Talk to you tonight.

From,

Noah

10/2/09

Dear Noah,

Wow, I can't believe how awake I am right now. I mean, we were talking until like, three in the morning, and then I had trouble sleeping after that, and I honestly thought that even coffee wouldn't be enough to wake me up. Just to be safe, I had two or three cups, and I'm practically bouncing off the walls right now! It's a good thing I had gym first block (even though my teacher started to get annoyed because I was so overly hyper. I couldn't stop talking, and then I couldn't pay attention to anything or anyone, and then I kept getting hit with the dodge ball…) I swear I could run two or three marathons right now, and take home the gold for each one! Man, it would help if we still had recess. I really, really wish we still had recess. I'd go on the swings. Doesn't swinging sound like fun right now? I used to be great at swinging. I always jumped off when I got as high as possible, and I swear it felt like flying. Except, I always hurt myself when I landed. I don't think that's supposed to happen when you fly.

Anyway, what was I…? Oh yeah, the phone call. I swear. I've never talked to anyone that long on the phone before, not even Kevin or Casey or anyone! I actually don't find talking on the phone that interesting in the first place. Actually, it's sort of a hassle to me (why talk when you can text, right?). But for whatever reason, it's really easy with you. _Everything_ just seems to be really easy, when it's with you. Talking, being an idiot, making a fool of myself…not to sound all corny and crap, but, there's no one else I'm more comfortable around, and I don't even know why. Believe me, I'm never this spastic and…_myself_ around Kevin (I don't talk about him much, but I've been friends with him for years!).

Um, anyway…I can't even really remember what we talked about last night! It almost felt like we'd talk about one thing, and then move on to the next, and then the next, and soon it was two a.m. and I still wasn't tired. Wait! Now that I think about it, I sort of remember talking about some of those black and white movies that you love so much (Casablanca, Citizen Kane, and…um…Singing in the Rain!!), and digital photography, and I think something about waffles…

Ha-ha! Remember how you had to remind me to keep my voice down, over and over again?

I've never had a phone call that was so much fun, so (even though you told me not to), thank you. For everything…

And if you still wanna do that thing tonight, I still have no plans. But, I mean, if something came up and _you_ can't hang out anymore, than just say the word, and we can reschedule. Oh, but if you don't even want to anymore, then just say the word, and I'll be on my way! I mean it. But um, anyways…I'll talk to you later?

From,

Luke

10/2/09

Dear Luke,

You're definitely more awake then I am. I can barely function right now, and all the coffee in the world won't fix that. But I'm a little surprised you even had to drink anything; I figured you'd be over-tired.

I honestly can't remember anything we talked about either, aside from the movies (I'm forcing you to watch them, even if I have to glue your eyes open). But, you probably know this by now, but I've never talked for so long with someone…period. And I don't think I'd be able to do it with anyone else.

Anyway…yeah, I think we've talked about Kevin once or twice. I've even seen you guys together. You seem pretty close…that's good for you. He seems like a decent guy, I guess.

Oh, and Luke…stop. I wanna hang out with you too, okay? Believe that you're a lot of fun to be around. And besides, someone's got to enlighten you on your terrible and incredibly one-dimensional movie taste. It might as well be me, right?

And one last thing…I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I was a pretty good swinger in my younger days, too. One of these days, we should really have a swing off. I'd win, no doubt about that, but maybe the two of us really would start flying. I wouldn't be surprised if that happened with you. But, I wouldn't let you fall and hurt yourself, I can promise that…

Have a nice day, Luke. I'll see you later tonight…

From,

Noah


	5. Chapter 5

10/05/2009  
Monday

Dear Luke,

So, this is probably gonna sound really freaky, but…you were in my dream last night. Don't worry; it wasn't anything _too_ weird, but I just thought it fair to warn you. Anyway, after we got off the phone last night (what time was it? One…two? Maybe three. Sometime after midnight, that's all I know) I couldn't sleep, so I kind of just sat there. And then I started thinking about all the movies we watched on Saturday; how I had to keep pinching your arm to keep you awake; and how you kept pinching me back.

I think I slept sometime after that, but I can't even remember. But I do remember that in my dream, the two of us were in a black and white film. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman were in the middle of a scene (I think it was the final one between them, at the airport), The Marx Brothers were slapping each other with salami, and the Animaniacs were (for some reason) pulling Beyonce's hair. It didn't make sense, really, now that I think about it.

Anyway, the two of us were watching all of this from a distance, and we thought it was so funny. We started laughing so hard, and then you blew up like a helium balloon and floated into the sky. I yelled at you to come down, and you blew a raspberry at me, so I told you I was coming up too. I don't know how, but I blew up. So there we were, both floating in the sky, looking down at everyone and everything.

And then you turned to me and said, with your face blown up like a puffer fish, "Here's looking at you, Noah."

And then the dream was over, just like that. Like I said, it wasn't_ that_ weird a dream, but I just thought I'd tell you about it.

I hope you had fun on Saturday. We should do it again sometime…soon.

From,  
Noah

************************************************************************

10/06/2009  
Tuesday

Dear Luke,

Is something wrong? You didn't write back yesterday. In fact, you barely looked me in the eye all day, even at lunch. And when I called you last night, you were suspiciously acting like you really _didn't_ want to talk to me. Did you not have fun on Saturday? Or maybe my dream really did freak you out?

You can tell me, Luke; whatever it is, no matter how stupid. Just…talk to me. Please.

From,  
Noah

************************************************************************

10/07/2009  
Wednesday

Dear Noah,

Nothing's wrong. I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you're just overreacting.

From,  
Luke

************************************************************************

10/07/2009  
Wednesday

Dear Luke,

Well, I think you're just under-reacting! This doesn't even sound like you, Luke. You have never written a letter that's only one line long, even when you didn't really have anything to say. What's going on? You won't look me in the eye, you hang up after talking for two seconds on the phone, and you're just…you're frustrating me, okay?

Talk to me, Luke.

From,  
Noah

************************************************************************

10/08/2009  
Thursday

Dear Noah,

_I'm_ frustrating _you_? Please tell me you're joking, Noah. Oh, wait…I think I get it now.

We're just gonna play _pretend_. We're gonna be like actors! Oh, I know! Actors in a freaking soap opera! The kind my mom is addicted to watching (she always watches them with a box of tissues and malted chocolate balls, for whatever reason. She keeps trying to get me to watch too, but…just no), with drama and lies and crap like that. And we're gonna act like _nothing_ happened on Saturday; like we _didn't_ kiss, and you _didn't_ stick your tongue down my throat! Not at all! Someone please hand Mr. Mayer an Emmy for most convincing role ( If there is such a thing, but if there isn't...then...then...they should make one, just for you)!

I just don't understand, Noah. Why won't you talk about it? Even when it happened, you just brushed it aside like it was just a freak thing, and you went back to watching those movies. I kept trying to get you to talk to you about it, but you kept changing the topic, so I dropped it.

And then on the phone Saturday, I kept trying to bring it up, but you wouldn't let me. You'd interrupt me; you'd say something random or awkward…anything you could think of. And I honestly wanted to scream.

And I'm sorry, Noah, but it's so hard doing this, pretending like it didn't happen. It did happen, and you acting like this makes me think that maybe you regret it. And that hurts too.

Because...I _don't_ regret it.

From,  
Luke

************************************************************************

10/09/10  
Friday

Dear Luke,

I'm sorry.

I know I said that plenty on the phone last night, but it doesn't feel like it was enough. So I'll say it again:

I'm sorry.

I wasn't thinking. Like at all. I deserve everything you said to me, and more. I'm a jerk, an asshole, a little…jerk! And I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt you, Luke, please believe that. I just freaked out afterwords, and I didn't know how to handle it. Obviously I have feelings for you, and I think you have feelings for me too, but I wasn't sure…and I was sort of…nervous to find out.

But what I said before, that I wouldn't lay a hand on you unless you wanted me too…I meant that. And I still mean it. I respect you, and if you never want to talk to me again…I'd understand.

I'm perfectly willing to accept my Emmy, Luke. And if it makes you feel any better, I'll let you hit me on the head with it.

No joke.

Anyway…I'm really, really, sorry Luke. Please forgive me.

And…for the record, I don't regret it either.

From,  
Noah

************************************************************************

10/09/10  
Friday

Dear Noah,

Your dream about me…it was one of the weirdest and most disturbing things I've ever heard. And that's coming from _me_…

From,  
Luke

************************************************************************

10/09/10  
Friday

Dear Luke,

Wait, wait, wait…so, do you forgive me?

From,  
Noah

* * *

10/09/10  
Friday

Dear Noah,

I didn't say _that_…but I _am_ willing to take you to a psychologist to talk about that dream. You might need a professional, and even though I've heard that I'm a really good listener (despite all my talking), I don't think I qualify.

First of all, I wouldn't even know where to start with that. I mean, I was freaking floating in the sky, Noah! Like a big, round, fat balloon! I mean it's one thing to fly in a dream, but a whole other thing to expand like a freaking cartoon! I've never had a dream like that before.

Well, actually…in one dream I had, I was a talking milkshake (strawberry…my favorite!) and my little sister was about to drink me. I kept trying to scream at her to go away and leave me alone, but she didn't speak Milkshake, so I guess she didn't understand, but…that is NOT as weird as your dream. Not even close, in fact.

But, anyway, I…I forget what I was talking about…

From,  
Luke


End file.
